He had brought only the camera. His eyes. As if that was all he wanted to be when he travelled away from home, eyes. (He used his eyes and his lens. On her. On Tokyo. On all the places where he went. Before he came to Tokyo he had used them in a war. And he had run away from the war to come to Tokyo. He did not tell her that in the tempura restaurant. She had to know him a long time before she learnt about Vietnam, so well hidden he kept what he had seen. Even when she knew that he had been there, it was some time more before she saw the pictures he had taken. Jonathan was trying to live only some moments and not others, the present moments and not the past ones. It made him complex, much more complex than he had seemed at the start, her Englishman. Elusive. Maybe that was a part of why she was in love with him. But also it kept her at a distance.)

You have all those other photos. Don’t you have any of your family? Your mother?

Why should I bring photos? I know who they are. I know what my home looks like. I don’t need photos to remember them by.

You might have brought them for me.

Why, he said, and rolled over towards her. Their faces close, eye to eye. Breath to breath. All they could see was each other. They could hear rain soft outside, the occasional movement of wind chimes. Why should I bring somewhere else with me? Isn’t here enough?

There can be one moment in the year, Claire said, turning back to the girl even as she led her out into the garden. One moment, she said, looking back, speaking clearly as one speaks to a foreigner, one moment when everything falls just right, the irises still in bloom, the roses just coming out. Some week at the start of June, so long as the weather is kind.

The girl said, Then I am lucky to come here just now.

Yes, it’s perfect now. Last year we had a wet start to June and it was all ruined by the rain. These old roses can’t bear too much rain, the wet gets in and the petals spoil and begin to rot even in the bud.

The daffodils were long gone. There were roses instead. When Kumiko stood where he had stood to take the photo, she could scarcely see the house for leaves.